The truth was that I wasn’t.
I had never corrected my mother when she made her proud announcements. I had never confessed to my father, who spoke about my future husband as if my marriage were a business agreement he was preparing to negotiate.
I told myself that my private life was nobody else’s business.
But deep down, I knew there was another reason for my silence.
I was afraid.
Afraid of losing my family.
Afraid of becoming the subject of whispers among relatives who had praised me for years.
Afraid that one mistake, one confession, one uncovered secret would erase every good thing I had ever done.
Then I met a man named Amir.
And within twenty-four hours, the life I had spent years keeping separate was about to collide in the most terrifying way imaginable.
I met Amir on a Thursday evening.
I had gone out intending to spend only a little time away from home. I wasn’t looking for love, and I certainly wasn’t looking for trouble.
